What You Don't Know Can't Hurt You
by Tell me you don't see evil
Summary: People say it hurts to remember, but it's even worse to forget. Yet, why would it be worse to forget when you couldn't possibly remember because you forgot? And, you know, sometimes, it feels like your deepest fears have come alive, that even though he's right beside you, he's already long gone. But what you don't know can't hurt you. AU, OC, Malec Fanfic.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

**Hello. So, I'm going to try to write some sort of romantic Fanfiction, and because Malec is my OTP in the fiction world, I shall try not to make them sound constipated. **

**Please, read, review, follow, favourite, tell me I sound stupid. Seriously. Tell me I sound stupid, if you think I do. **

**Anyway, I don't own "The Mortal Instruments". If I did, I'd honestly do all the things those awesome shirts say like "Keep calm and love unitatos". I would.**

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><p>Imagine this. The second you were born, there was something expected of you, a path set for you, a life waiting for you.<p>

You were born as a Shadowhunter, the eldest of three. When you were eleven, your family adopted two other children.

One of them was a boy, a boy who was special. He was better than you at everything. Better looking, a better fighter, just plain better. Everyone thought so, you could see it in their eyes. Everyone knew it, everyone believed it, everyone, but him.

He liked you enough to become your best friend, your _parabatai,_ a brother in all but blood. What you felt, he felt; where you went, he went; when you died, a part of him died with you.

He was impulsive, perhaps he had a death wish; you were the protector, the older brother, the one who was everything your parents wanted in a son.

The other one looked like a Lightwood when he came. A small one, fragile. He was better than you too, just like your _parabatai_. Only a better fighter, though. You've never seen him with a girl before. You should have noticed. You're sister did. She never did tell. Just like she never did tell your secret.

A boy at Pandemonium had flirted with him, a hand on his arm, asked him to dance. The boy was a mundane. And by the end of the night, the mundane had him wide-eyed and breathless. You laughed it off that time, and every time after that.

You never noticed when he slunk into a corner to avoid dancing at clubs because you were occupied with finding your own corner to hide. You never noticed that you hadn't caught him with a girl yet, because you were too busy making up lies to hide your own lack of feminine companionship. You never noticed when he subtly watched your lips move as you spoke, hugged you a second longer than necessary, or touched you softly when you received bad news or any news at all. You never noticed.

You told the two of them everything, they were your best friends, your only friends. There was something that was missing, though, a crucial detail needed to complete the picture. It stood out to you like a neon sign hanging right before your eyes. You tried to cover up that neon sign. You tried so hard. You hoped they never saw it, your sister did, but she was different; that's what you told yourself.

It was like trying to hide the fact that your puzzle was missing a piece smack dab in the middle of your goddamn fifteen piece puzzle. Honestly, like hoping no one looked at the cake because you'd just eaten the giant icing flower everyone wanted, but you know what? You are Alexander Gideon Lightwood, and you are gay.

Then, when you met Magnus Bane, you were shocked. This was a man who was openly gay. The open-mouthed gapes of other people didn't bother him, nor did your staring. To him, those people were admiring his looks and his attire, and you were checking him out. You were, you know. You came up with many excuses to cover up your staring, but he saw through them, just like Isabelle; just like Clary.

You were drawn to him when you first met him, he was a novelty among warlocks, the High Warlock of Brooklyn. You were keenly aware of him, just as he was aware of you. He was the first one to call you beautiful, the first one to single you out and tell you to call him, the first one to magically write his number on your arm in sparkly pink ink.

The first, and forever the last.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Once again, please review, follow, favourite, tell me I make all the characters sound constipated. What a way to die indeed. **

**Thank you!**

**~ Tell me you don't see evil **


	2. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

**Greetings, fellow homo sapiens. I would like to thank all of the readers who followed my story so far. **

**I believe it gets sort of boring after a while, disclaiming and all since it's kind of obvious none of us own "The Mortal Instruments" or we wouldn't be here saying we didn't own it. Which also means, I won't say it anymore because if I owned "The Mortal Instruments" I wouldn't be here right now writing a story based off it. **

**"To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance." ~ Oscar Wilde**

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><p>The room was barely lit, the corners cast in shadows.<p>

Two boys stood, back to back in the middle of the room. One resembled a porcelain doll. He looked delicate and had alabaster skin, his facial proportions similar to that of an anime character. His eyes were almond shaped and the corners slanted downwards. They were a deep chocolate brown, with starkly contrasting flecks of silver and grass green in them. His hair was a rich, sleek black akin to the feathers of a raven and hung perfectly over his eyes.

The boy's whole face was dominated by a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses with large lenses.

His body was much like that of a porcelain doll, he seemed delicate, almost fragile. He was thin, with well-defined muscles, which were hidden by an over-sized shirt, hanging off his thin frame and narrow shoulders.

Shadowhunters, Downworlders and demons, alike, often underestimated his boy. He appeared quite frail, and easy to break, but he was often the last figure a demon or rouge Downworlder would see before returning to its own dimension.

The other boy in the room, his back against that of the other boy, had luminous eyes, like molten gold. He seemed to emit light from his very being, the boy himself being the light source in the otherwise terribly dark, dank warehouse. He was perfectly tanned with chiseled features and, like the other boy, well defined muscles that showed through the tight shirt and hoodie with the rolled up sleeves which was only marginally looser than the shirt he was wearing.

The boy's hair, like the rest of his body, was golden as well, curled perfectly around his ears and messy in a deliberate way.

Both boys appeared exhausted and, if one takes a moment to stop observing their general features so closely, they would see that the boy with the porcelain features had a small cut by his right temple. Blood flowed freely from it, coating a section of the right side of his face with the thick, red liquid.

His shirt, like that of his companion as well, was torn in several places and some wounds were visible through the remaining fabric. Both Shadowhunters breathed heavily, leaning against each other for support.

At virtually, the same time, both boys turned towards the doorway where a figure was visible. The figure was another boy, another Shadowhunter.

"Alec," the shorter boy crowed triumphantly. "Did you see my last move right there? It finally worked, and perfect timing too!"

"Your delight is quite childish indeed, Sam, but I suppose it's necessary for the less privileged," Jace Wayland stood up straight and proceeded to strike a pose, something only Magnus Bane could pull off, besides himself, of course. This was to emphasize his point, although it hardly needed emphasizing. There wasn't a time when Jace had not been solely referring to himself when he spoke like that.

Sam merely snorted, and both turned to Alec to hear what he had to say. Alec seemed to regard his two friends for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. Jace would never admit it, but he unconsciously leaned forward in anticipation of what Alec had to say to them.

For a moment, though, time seemed to stand still. Alec's eyes widened marginally, before he emitted a low groan, unexpectedly pitching forward. A blade protruded from his back.

Sam reacted faster than Jace. He darted forward, a seraph blade already in his hand. Both boys observed a shadowy figure, dressed all in black. Sam drew back his arm as he ran, swiftly covering the distance between him and the figure standing behind Alec. The figure was already gone, though, even before the knife had left Sam's fingers.

Jace, on the other hand, having not reacted so quickly, and not running nearly fast enough, caught the flash of a pale throat, the gleam of the light bouncing off a sharp incisor. It made Jace stop in his tracks.

Sam, on the contrary, cared much more for the boy lying motionless on the ground, than about the one who had put them in this situation.

He quickly withdrew his stele from his weapons belt, extracting the knife from Alec's back, lifting off the other boy's shirt, and sketching an _iratze_ on his back in a couple smooth motions. The wound started to heal.

Alec proceeded to shift as the pain subsided a little and Sam breathed a sigh of relief, all the energy seeming to go out of him at once.

Jace smirked to cover up his own relief. "Your hands look very comfortable there Sam."

The boy in question started, unaware that he had unconsciously placed his hands on either side of Alec's wound, the skin of his hands pressing against Alec's back. He flushed a deep magenta, two pink spots on his otherwise pale face. He ducked his head so that his soft black hair covered a great majority of his face, but did nothing to hide the blush that was still rapidly spreading across his features.

Jace laughed as Alec, who was mostly healed, cracked open his eyelids and peered up at Sam.

Sam's head snapped up when a strangely high-pitched sound of surprise was emitted from Alec, but Alec, himself was unharmed.

"Are you _blushing,_ Sam?" Alec was incredulous. Sam blushed even more profusely and Jace's and Alec's laughter rang through the room.

Then, Sam, being the mature eighteen-year-old he was, picked up the severed arm of one of the unfortunate vampires that had crossed them, and threw it at Jace. He used his other arm to whack Alec upside the head.

A loud protest was drawn from Alec but was quickly drowned out by Jace's unmanly squeal as he realized just what Sam had thrown at him. Sam and Alec both burst out laughing.

Jace _harrumphed _and turned away, but, being unable to resist the temptation, soon joined his friends in laughter.

"Hey, Jace," Sam looked up at the blond haired boy from his position on the ground. "Did you see the person who injured Alec?"

Jace's laughter died, replaced by a serious look.

"It was a vampire."

"Are you sure?" Sam was skeptical. "Didn't we kill them all?"

"I thought so too, but the figure had incisors and the knife he used to hurt Alec was a mundane knife. Besides, someone with my looks couldn't possibly be wrong."

"Jace is right," Alec agreed nodding.

"See, Sam? Even Alec agrees that I'm a Greek god!"

Sam snorted. "Yes, and I'm the absurd Irish redhead in a bright green top hat on the cereal box you like so much."

"Lucky Charms?" Alec raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps it was the top hat that made you so crazy, Lucky the Leprechaun."

Alec burst into laughter.

"You know the _name_ of the funny looking thing?"

"It's a leprechaun," Jace replied automatically, completely straight faced. "Of course I do. He's also called Sir Charms, although he probably isn't half as charming as me."

"Yes, girls just _fall_ over themselves in their haste to get to you, don't they?" Sam's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Indeed, they do. You sound jealous, Sam. Need some tips on how to make girls swoon?"

"Oh, yes please."

"I'm afraid it would be impossible for someone like you to obtain something remotely close to the beauty before you. You're hopeless."

"Why thank you, Jace. I really appreciate the help."

"You're welcome."

"Now would you like to help me -"

Jace never had a chance to find out what Sam would like help with because Alec interrupted them.

"Quit it, both of you! Jace, you said the one who stabbed me was a vampire, right?"

"Indeed."

Realization dawned on both Sam and Jace.

Sam let out an ungodly stream of profanities that should not be written down followed by a painstakingly obvious "We let one get away!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, Captain Obvious," Jace couldn't resist.

Sam, mercifully, ignored him.

"What are we supposed to do?"

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jace didn't have anything sarcastic or self-absorbed to say. In fact, the single word he said had enough meaning to send three boys, himself included running out of an empty warehouse which would soon be filled with pale-skinned vampires had they stayed.

_"Run!"_

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**And we end on that pleasant note.**

**Please review and tell me what you think. Literally anything you think. Treat me as the creepy person that you don't know but friended on Facebook anyway, minus the creepy. Basically the person you could say anything to because I can't track your IP address and do not know where you live. Don't tell me where you live, though; I don't want to know. **

**Thank you!**

**~ Tell me you don't see evil**


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